


Carry Us Safe to Shore

by orphan_account



Series: And We Run From Wolves [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Criminal misuse of DnD canon, Dream Sex, F/M, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shower Sex, Trans Female Character, Vaginal Fingering, erotic dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 06:30:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It has been ten days since Barry and Magnus departed into what looked like a never-ending snowstorm, ten days since the ship got eerily quiet, ten days since Taako had looked over at her with bags under his eyes and exhaustion in every word as he said, “You think those fucking idiots do this to us on purpose?”She had said no, at the time.But now, it has been four days since they were supposed to return, and she felt like maybe she agreed with him.





	Carry Us Safe to Shore

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops, I meant to write introspective character death and smut came out. Big shock. I'm not super happy with this but i kind of want to move on to other ficlets, so I'm just biting the bullet.
> 
> Lup is physically and socially transitioned in this.
> 
> See the endnotes for elves and trancing information, if you're curious.

It has been twenty days since they had landed in this new plane, this swirl of ice and cold and colorless skies with no green or blue to be seen for miles.

It has been twelve days since they were able to successfully navigate to the area where the Light had fallen, in plain sight but shrouded in unforgiving terrain and biting cold weather. Eleven days since they had all crowded around a table formulating a plan, their cold fingertips pressed into long sleeves and crossed arms and other cold fingertips.

It has been ten days since Barry and Magnus departed into what looked like a never-ending snowstorm, ten days since the ship got eerily quiet, ten days since Taako had looked over at her with bags under his eyes and exhaustion in every word as he said, “You think those fucking idiots do this to us on purpose?”

She had said no, at the time.

But now, it has been four days since they were supposed to return, and she felt like maybe she agreed with him.

The tension that filled the ship has only grown every day since the deadline for their return had passed, exacerbated by Taako's refusal to meditate for the past three nights. Lup understood his anxiety; he'd burned so, so many spell slots and pushed his physical limits in order to transmute enough clothing and supplies to mitigate this harsh world, and Barry and Magnus not coming back as scheduled was a personal affront to his skills and a blow to his confidence.

Lucretia had tolerated the boundary stomping and foot stomping and growing frustration beautifully until an hour ago, when she'd sat down next to Taako with a hint from Lup and a book of poetry in a language neither of them understood. The monotone syllabic delivery of the spoken word turned out to to be the perfect unintentional conduit for his trance, and within a minute he was slumped against the couch with his eyes closed and his breathing even. A wordless high five from Lucretia as she retreated back to the library solidified Lup’s decision to turn in for the night, with Merle having offered to take the first 4 hours of watch.

Her own dark circles under her eyes taunted her as she brushed her teeth, weariness in every movement, Barry’s words ringing in her ears -- _This is our only shot, and if we don’t come back, you guys should abandon the Light and wait it out for the rest of the year --_

She slammed her toothbrush back into its holder harder than she meant to, anxiety twisting in her chest right behind her heart. She sucked in a breath and let it out slow, trying to release the tightness as she made her way back to their bed, climbing in under blankets piled high to stave off the chill.

_No use in getting upset now, Lup._

Surviving the rest of the year with the five of them was not ideal but nowhere near insurmountable, as long as they all kept it together. While there was little use in pretending that the loss of Barry would not hit her as hard as it would have in previous cycles, if there was one thing she was capable of, it was keeping herself together.

Lup entered her trance with practiced ease, her thoughts slowing as her awareness grew fuzzy and her limbs grew heavy. She shuffled through memories, her preferred conduit; some were so old only the imprint of their feelings remained and some were so fresh she could see every detail. Eventually, one seemed to click; a memory of Barry, curled up behind her with his hand resting across the soft skin of her stomach, his breathing slow and even against her neck. It falls in right where it should and she feels herself relax,  sliding deeper into her trance.

There was a vision forming at the edge of her subconscious, still undefined and blurred as she danced between awareness and semi-consciousness. She usually hated when her mind formed visions for her, preferring to rely on her conduit for mental exercises, but she was so exhausted and so mentally drained that it was a welcome respite. With the events of the past week so fresh in her mind, she was not surprised to find that her vision was of Barry.

It was simple enough. They were walking in a field, hand in hand, the exact location ambiguous and fuzzy. He turns to her and speaks, and while there's no sound, she knows that he's saying _did you see the sunset_ , and she turns her head and takes it in and replies _yes, it's so beautiful._

She stares at it for what seems like ages, long past when the sun should have slipped under the horizon to give way to the stars. The colors are so beautiful and the sky so incredibly radiant that it takes her a moment to realize that she’s no longer in that field, and is instead gazing at the sunset through a window in her room aboard the Starblaster.

Her actual room had no window, of course, but she’d learned not to dwell on inconsistencies.

Her actual room also didn’t have Barry, sliding up behind her and pressing a kiss to her neck as the sunset blurred and faded from her awareness. She felt a swirl of warmth as his arms wrapped around her, one hand pressing flat and sliding down into her pants, and--

Oh.

_Oh._

_What’s wrong_ , he says, even as her hips sway into his touch, even as he meets no resistance as he undoes the ties to her pants. And she knows that this is a vision, knows the dangers of getting too caught up in a vision and losing awareness of the outside world, but _nothing, nothing’s wrong,_ and the kiss he presses to the lobe of her ear makes a delicious shiver run down her back.

She was safe in her room, she didn’t need awareness, but fuck if _this_ wasn’t exactly what she needed right now.

She’s not quite sure when or how the vision changes and she ends up on her back on the bed, but she’s not complaining, not with his mouth gently tugging on one nipple as his fingers tease the other. She feels that swirling warmth spreading and blossoming, flushing her face and making her toes feel tingly, and the edge of her consciousness is vaguely aware of one hand curling slightly against the sheets as he moves his head down.

He does this thing with foreplay that he calls ‘savoring the moment’ and that she calls ‘teasing the ever-loving fuck out of me’, where he starts slow and she picks up the pace and he slows it back down. Even in a vision, she can’t seem to escape it, refusing to entertain the thought that teasing is what she _wants._  His teeth sink into the soft skin right below her bellybutton, feeling a rough cry at the back of her throat even if she can’t hear it. The infuriating mix of frustration and arousal she'd usually feel was somehow dimmed, and she sluggishly realized that this was letting her subconscious fully enjoy how much control this had over her.

Not that she doesn't like taking control herself from time to time. But outside of the bedroom she is _always_ in control; her spells are conjured with flawless concentration, her words always measured and precise, her temper tamped until she can flare it up at just the right time. Taako reacts but she _acts,_  swift and decisive and explosive, everything about that act premeditated to the best of her ability.

So she appreciates this, appreciates how willingly Barry bends to her desires to relinquish, how eager he is to please. How generous he is about her hands in his hair and her hips nudging his mouth right where she wants him as his tongue draws agonizingly slow circles around her clit, closing his lips with a pressure that makes her wish he wouldn't be so generous, that he'd just ignore her demands and tell her exactly what she was getting and how she was getting it.

But oh, no, Barry _fucking_ Bluejeans would never order her around, _wouldn't fucking dream of it_ , so he gets his digs in in other small ways. When she bucks against his mouth too aggressively, when her fingers wind too tight in his hair, he moves his lips and teeth and tongue (that fucking _tongue_ ) to her inner thigh, kissing and nibbling with a deliberate gentleness that makes her want to scream. She won't scream, though, because all that gets her is feigned concern and fingertips trailing light across her skin when all she wants is for him to _please, just make me come--_

And sure, sometimes saying that works. But right now it just gets her a slow and deep kiss, an unhurried whisper of _why rush this_ against her mouth as she tastes herself on his lips, even as his own arousal throbs against her thigh.

He says that, but really, what he means is _convince me otherwise._ The vision blurs around the edges just so and she’s kneeling between his legs, her hand guiding his to the back of her head as she takes him into her mouth, resting her fingers on top of his and clenching tight into her hair. He thankfully takes the hint, and the sharp tugs that she’s so desperately anticipating are dulled and muted but that doesn’t quell the heat pulsing between her legs as she swirls her tongue around the head of his cock.

He thrusts up into her mouth with reckless abandon, and her vague realization of the lack of any sort of discomfort she’d usually feel when he fucked her face is nothing compared to the surge of arousal as the pressure on the back of her head increases, fingernails digging into his thighs as she takes him in as far as she can. She shudders and sucks in a breath as he pulls her back and up, kissing her so fiercely that she almost feels like she’s floating, and the next thing she’s aware of is the mattress underneath her back and her wrists positioned above her head as he enters her.

She will never admit to just how much she loves being held down, how fucking wet she gets by being pinned under him as he moves inside her, but he doesn't seem to need her admission as he presses her shoulders into the mattress. He’s kissing her again but the sensation is vague and undefined, all of her focus and all of that tight warmth concentrated where their bodies are joined. She writhes under him as she begs _please, faster, more, more_ , and he obliges and _fuck fuck yes that's so good_ **_yes_** , her legs locking around his hips as her shoulders tremble against his grip.

And then, there is a heaviness on her arm.

It cuts cold through the warm fog of arousal and pleasure, abruptly slamming her away from her euphoric high, the edges of her awareness  sharpening in a panic as _someone’s on the bed, someone’s in the room, someone is touching me,_ **_someone is touching me_ ** **\--**

Lup gasped, high and sharp, her eyes snapping open and her opposite hand flying up to grip the wrist of the hand touching her. Her mouth moved before her mind could catch up and _produce flame_ burst into the palm of her restrained arm, causing the person on the bed to jump up abruptly.

“Lup, you’re okay! It’s just me, it’s--”

“ _Barry,_ ” she choked out, the cantrip vanishing as quick as it appeared, sitting up and fumbling towards the lamp on the bedside table. This is why she hated letting her subconscious take control, _damn it_ \--

“Oh gods, Barry, I’m sorry!"

“It’s okay, you didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.”

Warm light flooded the room a split second later and the relief cut sharp and immediate into the adrenaline coursing through her because there he is, his cheeks burned pink from the cold and a bruised cut near his eye, the thick down IPRE coat Taako had created unzipped and hanging from his shoulders. He sat down on the bed, his hand reaching out to caress her cheek, his fingertips still blisteringly cold.

“Are you...are you okay? You looked like you were having a nightmare or something,” he said quietly. She knew she should try to answer but her mind is racing a mile a minute, her body still hot from her vision and adrenaline, so instead she shifted onto her knees and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

He smelled like ozone and sweat and dried blood but he’s here and he’s _alive_ , and her heart thrummed in her chest as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. She pressed into him, shivering against the chill of his clothes and his skin, tasting blood in his mouth as she deepened the kiss. She moved onto his lap and tightened her fingers in his hair, and she knew he must be exhausted but the way he moaned into her mouth and grabbed at her waist made warmth spark anew under her skin.

“Lup,” he whispered when they finally part for air, tilting his head to the side as she kissed up his jawline, lips brushing against his stubble. “Lup, I-- I love this, and I’m so glad to see you, but I really, _really_ need a shower--”

“Can I join you, then?” She nipped at his ear, her voice low. “If it can’t wait, that is.”

“It can’t wait,” he said with a breathless laugh, and maybe it’s just the thick pants he’s wearing, but Lup’s almost positive he’s half hard underneath her. “I’ve gone ten days without a shower, you don’t want to be anywhere near me right now.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Barold,” she chided, but there was no derision in her tone. “Answer my question, then.”

“Of course you can join me,” he said quickly, the pink tinge on his cheeks darkening. She grinned and planted a kiss on his lips before standing up, tugging him to his feet. He winced as he stood, and something about that action brings Lup crashing down to earth, her chest tightening with the realization of something she’d shamefully forgotten. “Oh, Magnus--”

“He’s fine,” Barry said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “He had a nasty gash across his chest but Merle fixed him up. He’s resting now. I think Taako and Davenport are with him.”

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding quickly. “Okay. We’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” he affirmed, running his fingertips across her temple and down her jaw to her neck. “We’re all okay. For once.”

* * *

 

Barry swore quietly as he stepped into the running shower, closing the door behind him with more force than necessary. Lup heard the deliberate _squeaksqueaksqueak_ of the taps adjusting, a moment of quiet, and another muttered swear.

“Just tolerate it as best as you can, love,” she said, pulling her shirt off and tossing it on top of his dirty clothes. “You’ll warm up soon.”

He grumbled out an affirmative to her statement, and when she finally pulled the door open to step into the shower stall, she let out a sharp laugh despite herself. His tone perfectly matched the utterly disgruntled look on his face, his back to the water and his arms crossed over his chest in an almost petulant manner.

“Oh, babe,” she said, her tone teasing as she reached out past him to feel the tepid water splashing on his back.

“It burns,” he grated out, and her expression went soft, planting a kiss on his lips before reaching past him again to grab a washcloth.

“I know. Would it help if I washed your back?” She tossed an exaggerated wink his way and he huffed out a laugh, nodding an affirmative and turning around.

To her credit, she does not make a sound as she discovers the bruise across his back, blue and purple and bigger than her own head. Her brows knit together as she bit back the urge to ask if he'd been to see Merle. Magnus, she assumes, had been the more pressing matter.

She drew in a quiet breath, foregoing the washcloth in favor of soapy hands as she ran them over the broad expanse of his shoulders, carefully washing the bruise. By the time Lup is done he seemed to have acclimated to the water, shoving his head underneath the stream and scrubbing his hair vigorously with his fingers. He washed his hair three times and scrubbed his body twice before he seemed to be satisfied, a sigh of relief slipping out as Lup stepped under the water, tilting her head forward and running her fingers through her hair as she washed the soap from her body.

“I thought I’d never get clean again,” he muttered, and Lup hummed in response, her fingers working at a particularly stubborn tangle.

She felt him step closer to her, radiating body heat and borrowed warmth from the hot water, and she leaned back into his chest with a content sigh. His arms wrapped around her, one splaying against her ribcage and the other sliding down over her belly and--

“Oh,” she breathed, her feet inching apart in spite of herself. “Oh, babe...are you--?”

“I'm fine,” he said, his voice low in her ear. “Is this okay?”

“It's more than okay,” she replied, quick and eager, the last word almost lost to a sharp gasp as he slipped a finger inside her.

“Fuck, you're...you're really wet.” A second finger joined the first almost immediately and she moaned, feeling his hardness pressing into her backside. His teeth nipped at her neck, his free hand coming up to cup her breast, gently teasing the nipple with his fingertips. She was already so sensitive, so overloaded by that damn vision, and his fingers inside her were doing nothing to scratch that proverbial itch.

“Babe,” she whimpered, arching against his touch. “Barry, please, I need you so bad--”

“I can tell.” His voice was rough against her neck. “What were you thinking about that got you so hot?”

“You,” she gasped out, rewarded with a particularly deep push of his fingers, not bothering to stifle her moan over the sound of the shower. “Oh, oh, fuck yes, fuck, I was t-thinking about you--”

“What _about_ me?”

Heat rises to her cheeks as she bites her lip, her desire to indulge him directly at odds with her desire to be fucked like _right goddamn now,_  and she presses her hips back against his erection as she answers.

“Thought about your cock in my mouth.” Her voice lowered despite herself, his words making her feel oddly vulnerable. “Thought about you holding me down and making me scream--”

He slipped his fingers out and spun her around to kiss her hard, both hands grabbing her ass and holding her to him as he backed her against the wall. She gasped against his mouth as one arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her slightly, the other positioning himself at her entrance and then gripping her thigh as he slid inside her with ease.

“ _Fuuuck,_ ” she moaned, her head falling against his shoulder as she took him in, her leg lifting against his hip of her own accord. He nudged her head up with a gentle shrug, the hand on her thigh coming up to brush sopping wet hair from her cheek, his gaze adoring and hungry all at once.

“Let me look at you. You’re so beautiful.”

He began moving before she could answer, her leg tightening around him in response and her head falling back against the wall with a sharp whine. She knew she wouldn’t last very long like this, with one leg wrapped around his hips and the other shaking on tiptoe against the floor, back pressed against the cold tiles as he fucked her with rough uneven thrusts. She clung to him desperately, moaning and tangling her fingers in his hair, trying her best to match his pace despite his arm holding her hips so securely against him.

It wasn’t the best sex they’d ever had -- slightly clumsy and awkward, in fact -- but it was visceral and intense and he felt so damn _good_ that she found her edge almost immediately, whispering broken words of encouragement into his ear as he leaned in to kiss her neck. The wonderful pressure on her clit as he moved against her blossomed into an orgasm that made her cry out in delighted surprise, digging her fingernails into Barry’s shoulder as he groaned into her skin.

He wasn’t usually loud when he came but she could still tell when he finished by the hitch in his voice, the way his thrusts became erratic, the way he moaned her name into her neck. She was vaguely aware of the now-cool water still washing over them as he kissed at her jaw, his arms shaking with what was either exertion or exhaustion or a mix of both. Despite this, he seemed almost reluctant to let go, his grip tightening as he kissed across her cheek to find her lips.

“I love you,” he murmured as they parted, his hand skirting down her side to rest on her hipbone.

“Oh babe,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I love you too, that was wonderful, but this water’s cold and I need _out._ ”

He laughed, leaning heavy against her and peppering her cheeks, forehead, and brow with a couple more kisses before releasing her. They stepped out, quickly wrapping themselves in towels and drying before the chill could hit their skin.

The trek back to their room after they’d changed was spent in comfortable silence, his arm tight around her shoulders and her arm wound around his waist. She could see the exhaustion on his face and how stiff his arm was when it moved, so it was of no surprise to her that he immediately went to the bed. He barely stayed awake in time for her to curl up next to him, running her fingers through his damp hair as he drifted off to sleep, his words from earlier running through her head like a mantra.

_We're okay. We're okay. We're okay._

**Author's Note:**

> From the D&D 5e Compendium:  
> "Elves don’t need to sleep. Instead, they meditate deeply, remaining semiconscious, for 4 hours a day. (The Common word for such meditation is “trance.”) While meditating, you can dream after a fashion; such dreams are actually mental exercises that have become reflexive through years of practice."
> 
> So really, I just wanted an excuse to write a wet dream. Sorry!


End file.
